


Behind Closed Doors

by doubleox515



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 1920s AU, Angst, I've put a mature warning bc idk how in-depth this last scene is gonna be, M/M, Mild Alcohol Abuse, P.I AU, Private Investigator AU, but it's mostly teen and up ccc:, how does one tag :'D, idk what else to put here, mild violence, more so towards the end than anything else, slow burn?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 12:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12959439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubleox515/pseuds/doubleox515
Summary: It was just another day’s work for Akaashi Keiji when a wealthy man by the name of Bokuto Koutarou comes into his office and asks for his services. A P.I’s work is never easy or straightforward. So when Bokuto comes in and asks Akaashi to investigate his wife, Akaashi has a feeling that this is no ordinary job. As he delves into drug rings and secret love affairs, Akaashi learns that, perhaps the only way to survive in the changing world, is to follow your heart.STORY IS STILL BEING EDITED/FINISHED SO PLEASE BEAR WITH THE BETA AND MYSELF :'))))))))))





	Behind Closed Doors

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This is my contribution to the HQBB 2017 and it also happens to be my first finished Haikyuu!! fic :oooo  
> Just a note in terms of the writing itself: it's still undergoing editing and there's, like, two scenes of the ending to be finished so it'll definitely be changing every so often ; v ; I want to thank my wonderful beta [am-i-write](https://am-i-write.tumblr.com/) and my artist [MixsPixs](https://mixspixs.tumblr.com/) for their patience for my slow arse and incapability to finish things on time :'D I'm so grateful honestly ;w;w;w;w;
> 
> [Title card by mixspixs as shown below I lOVE IT <3](https://mixspixs.tumblr.com/post/168379927756/heyheyhey-its-time-to-post-our-creations-for-the)
> 
> ENJOY

 

Clasping his hands on his desk in front of him, Akaashi Keiji gazed at the man who had entered his office. It was a Monday afternoon, just shy of four o’clock; a sinking sun peeked through the blinds of the window, splashing across the wooden surface in thin streaks. He sent a small smile at his guest, trying to set him at ease.

One cursory glance told Akaashi that this man would fit right in with his previous clients. They screamed rich and powerful, from their perfectly fitted suits, to their clean-shaven faces, to the way they held themselves as if they were above the rest of the world. While they were correct in some way, Akaashi had never appreciated being belittled by means of status—which was why this man intrigued him. Although he had the aura of superiority that the upper class possessed, starting from his slicked back hair to the light suit that embraced his tall figure, there was something that… made him different from the rest. His teeth were worrying his bottom lip and his huge eyes were darting over all the surfaces the room had to offer. His hands, like Akaashi’s, were clasped together, only his were in his lap; he fiddled with his fingers, wringing them and picking at his nails. His hat, instead of being on his head like those before him, was placed on the corner of the table.

Akaashi was very curious, yes he was. The man had hardly said a word since he had walked in, save for a polite, ‘Good afternoon,’ as he had shut the door. He was cut from the same cloth in terms of wealth and status as his previous clients, but Akaashi noticed a stark contrast between their mannerisms.

‘So…’ Akaashi began slowly, watching as the man’s head snapped towards him at the sound of his voice. ‘What can I help you with, sir?’

The man’s back straightened up in his seat, and he blinked owlishly at Akaashi. The golden colour seemed to dig into Akaashi’s soul, but there was a childish nature to them that he hadn’t seen in a grown man’s eyes before. His expression turned sheepish at Akaashi’s question, and there was a half-smile on his face.

‘Well, um… It may seem silly, but I didn’t know where else to go,’ the man told him, his voice a lot deeper than it had been with his soft greeting. ‘I tried doing things myself, but I didn’t know where to start!’

‘Hopefully I’ll be able to help you,’ Akaashi replied. ‘What appears to be the problem?’

The man’s face fell and his expression turned sad, something that struck a chord. His lip went back in between his teeth, and his eyebrows furrowed in thought as if mulling over how to phrase his concern to Akaashi. Akaashi knew that look. He had seen it on many men and women before, those too afraid to admit that they were doubting this thing in the first place, but who didn’t know what else to do other than hire a private investigator to help them debunk the mystery. But this man, unlike the rest, seemed lost and embarrassed. 

He sounded as such as he whispered, his voice small, ‘I think my wife is cheating on me.’

Sniffing, Akaashi opened his notebook and took a pen into his hand. Flipping onto a new page, he poised the tip of the pen against it and looked at his client-to-be.

‘Okay, before I start asking you some questions, I need your details,’ he told him gently.

Once the man nodded, Akaashi started taking notes. The man’s name was Bokuto Koutarou, he was twenty-three years old and lived in a well-to-do area of the city. He had a younger brother who lived in another city, and his mother had passed away when he had been rather young, leaving his father in charge of things until he had died earlier that year. Bokuto was left with a huge inheritance and the family name to consider. The way he spoke about his life made Akaashi even more curious, especially with the miserable tone Bokuto had when he did. They then turned to the topic of his wife.

‘How long have you been married?’

Bokuto frowned in deep thought, then replied with, ‘Three years. It was an arranged one, as I’ve heard it always is these days.’

Akaashi jotted the information down and gazed at Bokuto seriously. ‘What makes you think that she’s cheating on you? That’s to say… it’s not unusual in arranged marriages.’

‘Is that so…?’ Bokuto eyes dropped to his hands and Akaashi watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in a heavy swallow. ‘We’re in love, Akaashi-san. We grew to love each other, as my father said we would. I can’t think of anyone else who I feel more love for than her, and I know she feels the same way about me, which is why her behaviour lately has been… strange…’

‘Strange how?’

When Bokuto averted his gaze, Akaashi sighed. _So… he’s one of those then, isn’t he?_ The sheltered ones. The ones who hadn’t been exposed to the harshness of reality, who didn’t know how to read between the lines. The ones who had been told what to do their whole lives, never had a chance to be an individual. Akaashi, for the first time in his life, started to feel pity for those in the upper class—or at least, those like Bokuto.

It was a full minute before Bokuto spoke.

‘She’s… been distant with me.’

‘Distant how?’

Bokuto hesitated, then said in a small voice, ‘We hardly talk anymore. She’s hardly at home, either, for she leaves early in the morning and comes home late in the evening. Says she’s too tired to talk or discuss anything and usually goes to bed right away. It’s like… she’s become strained around me. You have to understand, Akaashi-san,’ he added, his expression imploring, ‘this isn’t like her at all.’ 

Akaashi stared at the notes he had taken, Bokuto’s voice ringing in his ears. He tried to piece together the pieces of the puzzle, relating this situation to previous cases. The patterns were there clear as day, but there was something missing. _Married for three years…_ he mused, tapping his pen against the notebook’s edge. _In love with each other despite it being an arranged marriage… Parents out of the picture and brother in another city… Ah._

‘Bokuto-san?’ He leant forward in his seat. ‘You and your wife… you’ve been married for three years. Do you not have children?’

‘Well, you see, that’s the other thing,’ Bokuto went on immediately, shocking Akaashi at his fast answer. ‘We had plans to have children the moment we were married. It was her idea, now that I recall, and I was on board the minute she mentioned it. But then… it never happened.’ He looked at his hands and a rather embarrassed expression overtook his features, as if he was ashamed of voicing his thoughts. ‘She’s always made excuses… “I’m too tired now,” or, “I’m not in the mood,” or even, “Maybe tomorrow…” But it’s never…’

He trailed off and averted his gaze, choosing instead to stare out the window of Akaashi’s office. He felt sympathetic towards Bokuto, seeing how honest he was being, and unapologetically so. Akaashi could see that it had taken Bokuto guts to admit such feelings; he had the quick thought of reaching out a hand towards Bokuto, but then thought better of it.

‘Bokuto-san,’ he said softly, smiling gently when Bokuto moved to look at him. ‘I’ll see what I can find out.’

The way Bokuto’s eyes lit up at his words made Akaashi’s heart slam against his ribs. Why it did that, Akaashi had no clue, but he found himself feeling happy that there was some hope crawling onto Bokuto’s face.

‘I—’ Bokuto’s mouth formed into a huge grin and he stood up from his seat, holding out his hand towards Akaashi. He took it and suddenly found his whole arm being shaken as Bokuto cried, ‘Thank you so much, Akaashi-san! Thank you, thank you, thank you…’

‘Don’t mention it,’ Akaashi told him softly. ‘We’ll make a start as soon as possible.’

Bokuto beamed. From that point, Akaashi began wondering if he had done the right thing. He thwarted Bokuto’s query about payment, telling him they could worry about that later. Bokuto left the office that day in high spirit, while Akaashi sat at his desk wondering where the hell he was going to begin. 

 

About an hour after Bokuto had walked out of the agency, there was a knock on his door.

Since his departure, Akaashi had spent his time mulling over the different ways he and his colleagues could start working on this case. During that time, however, there was something nagging him, namely how quickly he had accepted Bokuto’s plea. He didn’t work that way, hadn’t since he had started working as a private investigator. The war on the European continent had trained him to be distrustful and to always question everything. So why on earth had he accepted straightaway? Something wasn’t right…

At the knock, Akaashi looked up from his myriad of papers and saw one of his colleagues leaning against the doorframe. There was a cool look of curiosity on his face, with an arched brow and a lazy smile. Akaashi leant back in his chair and asked the silent question of, ‘What is it?’ with a simple wave of his hand.

‘Who was that who walked out of the office earlier?’

Akaashi blinked at him. ‘That would be our client, Kuroo-san.’ Despite his conflictions, it happened to be the truth.

Kuroo stared at him, then grinned wider. ‘Well, well, well… What’s a rich man doing in a place like this? No, wait let me guess,’ he went on, interrupting Akaashi as he opened his mouth to reply, ‘wife trouble?’

‘He has the belief that his wife is having an affair, yes,’ Akaashi told him. ‘It is our job to find out whether that statement is true. Unless you object?’

‘No, not at all.’ Kuroo moved towards his desk, planting his hands on the edge and leaning forward. ‘I’m just curious as to why you took the case so quickly. Usually you put our clients on trial for a few days before you accept. Why the hasty decision?’

_I know… I’m just as confused as you are._

Akaashi sighed and gazed at his colleague deeply. ‘Call it a gut feeling, but I think he’s telling the truth.’

Kuroo’s eyebrows shot into his hairline—then he let out a laugh and shook his head. ‘You—Akaashi Keiji—trusting your gut? Now this is news to me.’ He frowned as he sank into the seat opposite him. ‘Do you know him? Is he a friend?’

‘I’ve never met him before today.’

Kuroo sighed through his nose, nodding slowly. ‘I assume we’re all on this case now?’

Before Akaashi could reply, there was a loud crash from outside, followed by a serious case of swearing and shouting. He pinched his nose. ‘Dear god, what are they up to now?’

‘Be more careful, bastard!’ a guff voice yelled from outside Akaashi’s office. ‘You could have killed us both with that!’

‘But Iwa-chan, I had to protect my camera!’ another voice cried, which made Akaashi roll his eyes. ‘You were in the way and I couldn’t just _squeeze_ past!’

‘Should I go and calm them down?’ Kuroo asked, and Akaashi could hear that he was struggling to hold in a laugh.

Akaashi merely waved a dismissive hand, far too tired to get involved in his colleagues’ argument. Kuroo left the office, his tone changing to a playful one as he announced, ‘Gentlemen, please, be civil!’

 _Just another day in the office, it seems._ Akaashi shook his head and went back to his paperwork. As he listened to the three men argue, he thought about Kuroo’s question. Why was it that he had so quickly accepted? He had been asking himself the same question since Bokuto had walked out of that door, with a light spring in his step and whistling a tune.

But then, of course… he _did_ know why. It was blatantly obvious why, and it had all to do with Bokuto’s very disposition. Akaashi couldn’t believe how easily it had been to read the man, nor how easily he had become sympathetic with him. Perhaps that was even more of a reason to put him on a trial, for if he could charm Akaashi that quickly… who knew what else he was capable of?

 _He’s not like that, Keiji…_ he thought to himself. _He’s not that type of man, and you know that. Deep down, you know that._

Tapping his pen against the surface of his desk, a frown graced his forehead as he tried to figure out a plan of attack. However, the argument outside had only escalated, Kuroo’s voice having become just as loud as the other two. Akaashi stood up from his chair and walked over to the window of his office, peering into their main workspace.

Three men were in a heated discussion. Akaashi had known them so long that he could read them just with a simple movement of their hands or a quirk of their features. He knew how Oikawa and Iwaizumi—the two men who had instigated the heated row—had grown up as childhood friends, and how they most often did not see eye-to-eye, no doubt as they weren’t then. But he knew how strong their friendship was, how tight the bond was between them. Akaashi also knew how Kuroo had grown up on the streets, fatherless and moneyless, his mother on the verge of insanity from raising a child on her own. He knew how much courage it had taken Kuroo to gain responsibility at such a young age—and there he was, trying his hardest to settle a mediocre quarrel between friends.

Yet, as much as Akaashi would have liked to reminisce, to recall the days he had met these strange gentlemen, they had a job to do. _All of them_. His eyes scanned the workspace and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the absence of Kenma. Not wasting another moment, he moved towards his door and opened it.

‘Right,’ he began, staring down his colleagues as he walked into the main room, ‘when you’re all done squabbling, I want everyone here in ten minutes. Kuroo-san, find Kenma-kun—and you two, stop arguing.’ He turned back to head into his office and called over his shoulder, ‘We have a client’s case to discuss, so be prepared to take notes.’

A stunned silence fell upon them as he shut his office door.

 

Akaashi was met with several confused expressions when he walked out of his office those ten minutes later, a folder in his hands and a look of stoicism planted firmly on his face. He let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Kenma sitting next to Kuroo—the young man was prone to disappearing for hours on end, mostly with his nose deep in some kind of book instead of doing actual work—and that Iwaizumi and Oikawa had calmed down.

Gazing at them all deeply, Akaashi leant against one of the desks and let the folder drop with a soft sound in front of Oikawa. Oikawa glanced down at the folder and then back up at Akaashi, arching a brow as he did so.

‘Before you go asking questions,’ Akaashi started, crossing his arms over his chest, ‘I want to tell you what this case is. We have been asked by our client to investigate his wife. He has reason to believe that she is, so to speak, cheating on him. It is our job to find out if that statement is indeed true and to gather facts to present to our client.’

There were a few nods and bored expressions overtook every one of their features. It was yet another case of another supposedly unfaithful spouse and Akaashi could see that they were all not particularly enthusiastic about it just from their thinned mouths. Iwaizumi leant back in his chair, causing a loud and long creak to be emitted from the old wooden item, and clasped his hands together. ‘So I’m assuming that everyone is on board with this case?’

Akaashi nodded, breathed in deeply through his nose and let out a sigh. ‘I know what you’re thinking. Kuroo-san has already mentioned it, but I should make myself clear. Despite my taking of this case, we are still putting Bokuto-san on trial. He, however, appears sincere with his words and opinions, and I trust him... to some extent. So it’s business as usual, gentlemen.’

In the past, no matter which person had come to him for help, Akaashi had always gone on a trial run with them, to study their behaviours and mannerisms, to get a real sense of the person he was going to be working with. He would take them out for drinks in the local pub or raise a particular topic of interest—almost always something to do with their situation—to gauge their responses. If there was so much as a slip-up or any indication that the person had been lying from the start, Akaashi would dismiss their case as “wasting precious time and resources” and move on.

But with Bokuto… Akaashi felt that there was something strange about him. Though the poor man virtually wore his heart on his sleeve, his very happy-go-lucky nature—or so Akaashi deduced—put him slightly on the edge. He could understand that the man needed clarification at best, but Akaashi couldn’t help the dubiousness that coursed through him.

He was taken out of his thoughts at Kenma’s polite cough. Settling his eyes on him, Akaashi listened as Kenma murmured, ‘Whose accounts am I to go through, Akaashi-senpai?’

‘On that note,’ Kuroo muttered, sending Akaashi a look, ‘what exactly are we looking for?’

Akaashi sniffed and gestured to Oikawa to open the folder. As he took it with long fingers, flipping the front open, Akaashi started to explain. ‘Iwaizumi-san and Kuroo-san, I want you two to keep an eye on the address listed. Report any strange sightings for the present, be it on behalf of Bokuto-san’s wife or Bokuto-san himself. Oikawa-san, I want you to join them and record anything you can with that camera of yours. Understood?’

He was met with three nods, and Akaashi then turned to Kenma, who blinked up at him lazily. ‘Kenma-kun, see what you can find out from their accounts. See if there have been any strange withdrawals or deposits made in either of their names—also see if there are any secret accounts with other banks in the area, and check out the family fortune if you can. See just exactly what the Bokuto clan are made of.’

Kenma bowed in his direction in acknowledgement. Akaashi nodded in return and checked his watch. _Hmm… it’s late…_ He looked back up at his colleagues and told them that such jobs will be started tomorrow. Suddenly there was movement in the office as everyone got out of their seats. Oikawa, Iwaizumi and Kuroo grabbed their jackets and hats from their desks—and camera, in Oikawa’s case—and farewelled Kenma and Akaashi with smiles and brief waves, promising to get into full swing in the morning. Kenma, instead of going home, went straight into their store room towards the back of the office and came out with a stack of folders—no doubt recording all the bank accounts owned in their city area. It was important to keep track of them, after all, or so Kenma had stated many a time. He waved a dismissive hand at Akaashi’s attempt to send him home, and muttered, ‘Might as well get started now… I came late today, so I have another hour to do before I go home. I’ll see you tomorrow, Akaashi-senpai.’ Not seeing any reason to argue, Akaashi himself retired to his office, shutting his door with a soft click.

He moved towards his window, which overlooked the bustling street below. It was busy this time of the day, as workers headed in the direction of home. The sky was now painted with brilliant reds and pinks, lining the grey clouds against the black and crimson roofs of the houses below. Sighing through his nose, Akaashi frowned to himself, thinking deeply about this case, about the man who had walked in and given it to him. He couldn’t help but feel that there was more to this than just a case of a cheating wife, but he wasn’t sure.

Unable to come to terms with anything else for the day, Akaashi took his dark grey jacket and slipped it on, exiting his office and grabbing his briefcase on the way out. His eyes landed on Kenma once more, who had a cheek rested in his palm and his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes scanned the pages before him.

‘Don’t stay up too late, Kenma-kun,’ were his final words before he shut the door and made his way down the stairs.

 

* * *

 

Standing outside the local pub near the office building, drawing heavily on a cigarette, Akaashi’s eyes roved over the street. Friday had rolled in grey and chilly. Not exactly the most cheery of weathers, but Akaashi found it calming. He could think better and make decisions better in the cold than in the heat. Summer had always been torture for him, and he was secretly delighted at the turn of the weather.

The pub itself wasn’t filled to the brim: there were a few stragglers in the corners, some in groups of twos and threes, others on their own. Akaashi would soon join them, but he was waiting for his client to turn up. Checking his watch in his waistcoat pocket, Akaashi tutted in annoyance and put it back.

_He’s late._

Akaashi had phoned Bokuto the previous day, wanting to meet up to discuss the case. None of his colleagues had managed to find anything remotely suspicious at this stage. Iwaizumi and Kuroo had gone around the manor of the Bokuto family, with Oikawa in the nearby pub, taking photos of the house and anyone inside of it. The three of them had reported to Akaashi for the past three days with nothing out of the ordinary. Even Kenma had turned up with nothing terribly interesting, save for the huge inheritance Bokuto had mentioned he had received upon the death of his father and that his wife would receive it too if anything happened to Bokuto himself. Akaashi told Kenma to keep an eye on the account, just in case…

‘Akaashi-san!’

Turning towards the voice, Akaashi saw Bokuto walking up to him, grinning hugely with pink cheeks, no doubt from running. He bowed multiple times, apologising profusely for his lateness. ‘My wife… she wanted a word before I left and then wouldn’t stop talking!’ he cried, sending Akaashi a sheepish look. ‘She’s always been a talkative one… one of the reasons I love her so much, because I’m talkative too!’

Akaashi shook his head at him, feeling something akin to endearment towards Bokuto for his actions and his words. He held out a hand towards the pub. ‘Shall we?’

Bokuto nodded and waited for Akaashi to enter first before following him in. They ordered a beer each and found a table by the window to talk. Akaashi folded his hands in his lap after he had set his hat upon the smooth, slightly sticky surface of the table, in the corner, and flicked his eyes up to Bokuto’s face.

‘Thank you for meeting with me, Bokuto-san,’ he began, keeping his voice down in the quiet pub. ‘I wanted to discuss the case with you, what we have so far. Is that alright?’

‘Oh.’ Bokuto gaped at Akaashi, his mouth in an ‘o’ and his beer halfway to it. ‘I thought… I thought this was meant to be, uh… a secret thing. I mean—I thought I wasn’t supposed to be updated. That I was supposed to remain “oblivious” to the whole thing.’

Akaashi stared at him. ‘Who on earth told you that?’

‘No one. I just thought that’s how it worked.’

‘Well,’ Akaashi said slowly, ‘it’s not. I don’t know how other investigators work, but I, for one, like to keep my clients updated, so they know that their money isn’t going to waste and that they get a feel of how the investigation is going.’ He paused. ‘Unless you don’t want me to discuss it with you?’

Bokuto waved his hands rapidly, his eyes widening. ‘No, no! No, I would very much love to hear if you find anything.’

Akaashi bowed his head in acknowledgement. He watched as Bokuto’s eyes remained on his, watched the movement of his throat as he took a sip of his drink. Akaashi swallowed and forced his eyes to stay on Bokuto’s face. _No good staring at anywhere else other than his face, Keiji._ He quickly recovered by telling Bokuto everything they had found out thus far, which, to be fair, was nothing at all. Bokuto’s face grew thoughtful as the words settled in his brain, nodding absentmindedly in acknowledgement.

There was a pause.

‘Tell you what, Akaashi-san,’ he then said suddenly, setting his drink down on the table and crossing his arms, a large smile forming on his face, ‘I’ve just had an idea.’

Akaashi blinked at him in surprise. It was amazing… He had met many people in his life, truly had, but no one had managed to surprise him as much as Bokuto did. The man was so expressive—he could pinpoint the exact change in his demeanour when it did, could read him like a book. Yet, Bokuto also knew how to be guarded, how to keep his emotions in check, just as he had done then. He had been merely listening to Akaashi, hadn’t butted in to add his own comment, hadn’t shown on his face or in his eyes the gears turning in his head, but had waited before smiling at him and dropping his comment on him. Akaashi usually praised himself on being able to read others, but he found himself out of his comfort zone with Bokuto. This was a new feeling entirely.

He realised he hadn’t said anything—evidenced by Bokuto’s slightly confused look—and he asked, ‘What is this idea, Bokuto-san?’

Bokuto leant forward, his eyes glimmering and his smile becoming broader. ‘I think I know of a good lead in for you and your men. That is… to find out more about my wife. It just occurred to me and apologies for not telling you of it sooner.’

Akaashi stared at him, then gestured for him to continue when Bokuto merely remained silent. Bokuto leaned in further, motioning for Akaashi to do the same. Akaashi followed his lead and moved close enough so that he could properly gaze into the millions of flecks of colours in Bokuto’s eyes. The corners were crinkled from his smile, the colour of them so enticing. He could feel Bokuto’s soft breath caressing his skin, see the lines of his bottom lip, could make out the thickness of his eyelashes and the long plane of his nose. But Akaashi nearly missed what he was telling him given he had almost been lost in the pools of gold. God, he had never seen such beautiful eyes…

‘There is a function happening later tonight, some celebration for a distant relative’s new company opening,’ Bokuto murmured, his voice deeper than it had been before. ‘My wife and I have both been invited. There are going to be several upper class VIPs… and perhaps my wife’s potential lover could be there as well. She won’t be around me the entire time… could get lost in the crowd.’

Taking a moment to process the information, Akaashi whispered back, ‘Are you suggesting we attend this function, Bokuto-san?’

‘That is exactly what I am suggesting.’

Akaashi leaned back in his seat, gazing at Bokuto with a raised eyebrow. ‘Forgive me, Bokuto-san, but the party will most definitely notice that we are not on the guest list.’

Bokuto’s smile turned into furtive smirk. ‘Leave that to me.’ He took a huge gulp of his drink and set it down on the table with a sigh. ‘Just arrive at the pavilion near the main park at around six this evening.’

Frowning deeply, Akaashi’s mind began to turn its gears…

Outside, it began to pour.

 

Bursting through the door of the office, and in doing so, alarming his colleagues by his sudden entrance, Akaashi checked his watch. Five in the evening. There wasn’t a moment to lose. Akaashi nodded in the men’s direction, having clearly gotten their attention by his abrupt arrival. He shook his umbrella outside the door before slamming it shut behind him and walking up to his men.  

‘Gentlemen… we’re going on night shift.’

A loud series of groans from Kuroo and Oikawa filled the office and Iwaizumi scowled. Kenma remained indifferent, as in the past, night shifts hadn’t ever affected him. He wasn’t the one doing field work, after all. That was Iwaizumi’s and Kuroo’s department. Oikawa just tagged along in order to take photos.

Iwaizumi gaped at his boss and opened his mouth to blurt out, ‘What’s going on?’

‘There is not a moment to lose,’ Akaashi muttered, ‘but I will quickly explain. In an hour, there is a party happening downtown and the Bokuto family are invited. This an opportunity to see Bokuto-san’s wife and what she does, and Bokuto-san is making it possible for us to attend. We have come up with nothing suspicious over the past three days… By going to this party, we can observe her movements, her acquaintances and her overall persona. Understood?’

The men nodded. Then Oikawa piped with, ‘Where is this party?’ and Akaashi told him of the location, as per Bokuto’s description. Kuroo’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, Oikawa frowned deeply and Iwaizumi pointed to the torrential downpour occurring outside. ‘In _this_ weather?’

Akaashi could only shrug. ‘As they say in the theatres: the show must go on.’ He clapped his hands and ushered them all to get moving, we haven’t got time to lose, gentlemen! As Oikawa, Iwaizumi and Kuroo grabbed their jackets and hats, making sure to take an umbrella, too, Akaashi walked up to Kenma, telling him in an urgent tone that it was best he went home and got plenty of rest.

‘We will gather a list of names, and you’re going to need to work on them. Accounts, backgrounds, the usual. We must know if Bokuto’s wife could be involved with any of them.’

Before Kenma could utter a word, there was a loud commotion by the door. Oikawa had tried to get through, having clearly taken note of Akaashi’s urgency to leave, only to be sandwiched with Kuroo, and both of them had gotten stuck in the frame. Akaashi didn’t hesitate to roll his eyes and say snidely, ‘Are we ever going to do anything around here _smoothly_?’ 

Iwaizumi shook his head at the pair bickering in the doorway and muttered to Akaashi, ‘Now where’s the fun in that?’

 

Despite the weather, the function was still taking place, as per Akaashi’s prediction. However, when Bokuto had told him of a pavilion, he had failed to mention that this so-called “pavilion” was in actual fact attached to a much larger building, akin to a hotel foyer one read about in the European novels. The quartet had gotten lost—and on the verge of becoming extremely soaked to the bone—and ended up arriving half an hour later than intended. But given that the party was already in full swing, they went unnoticed as they blended into the crowd.

Except for Bokuto, who saw Akaashi straightaway. He made no move towards him, however, just smiled at him and pointed discreetly to the woman who was standing next to him. Akaashi nodded slightly, not really paying attention to the small, wiry woman on Bokuto’s left. Bokuto had scrubbed up rather well since he had seen him earlier that day. A light grey suit which fitted nicely around his form, not too tight and not too loose. Just right. Tan shoes and a white button-up under his dinner jacket, completed with a dark red tie and slicked back hair fitting in with the latest fashion. Lovely. He looked… lovely. 

Akaashi shook his head inwardly and leaned in towards Kuroo, who was commenting on the beauty of the room. _Snap out of it, Keiji. You’re here on a job._

‘Next to Bokuto-san…’ he told Kuroo in a voice no louder than a whisper. ‘The woman in white. That’s his wife. Keep an eye on her.’

Kuroo made a sound of affirmation and relayed the message to the other two men. Having been offered a glass of bubbly from a passing thin waiter, Akaashi took a delicate sip, his tongue savouring the taste as his dark eyes focused solely on the Bokutos. Although, he was finding it rather hard to concentrate. The downpour outside had been drowned out by the cacophony coming from within the room. A jazz chorus from the little stage at the back mixed in with chinking glasses and the buzzing of chatter from the partygoers. A chandelier hung low from the ceiling, encasing the crowd with a pale glow, a stark contrast to the dark world beyond the walls. It was all just a bit too pompous for Akaashi’s liking. But they had a job to do. No time to scowl at the pretentiousness of the upper class. He told the men to scatter, to immerse themselves with the crowd and see what they could find out. They dispersed, leaving Akaashi behind to stare at Bokuto and his wife from behind a group of giggling, drink-wielding women.

 

The noise in the room got louder as time passed. Akaashi had found himself a seat on the outskirts of it all, in a perfect position to observe Bokuto and his wife. Akaashi had noticed throughout the night that Bokuto was in his element. There was not a shred of doubt on his face as he conversed with other guests, his handshakes firm and the huge smile that had been on his face all evening not wavering from his lips. The odd glance he sent his wife and the odd squeeze of her hand made Akaashi’s chest tighten in a strange way he had not felt it do so before. There was no questioning it. Bokuto was head over heels in love with his wife. That was rare in an arranged marriage, and Bokuto’s words wafted in Akaashi’s head, his descriptions of his wife and his love for her. In his appearance, it was obvious that he loved her beyond anything else.

This, for some strange reason, upset Akaashi.

He had lost sight of Oikawa, Iwaizumi and Kuroo about an hour ago. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, talking to the guests and dancing with a few. But Akaashi knew that they kept one eye on the task at hand and the other on Bokuto’s gorgeous wife. Akaashi himself conversed with very few people, making small talk that made his hair rise, and had turned down a few offers to dance. He told them he had two left feet and perhaps it was best to find a gentlemen who would not crush the toes of a beautiful women as yourself, madam. If Akaashi was honest, the thing he wanted more than anything at that moment was his bed. This company drained him, and he couldn’t think.

But when Bokuto’s wife made eye contact with her husband, gesturing for him to bend down for her to whisper in his ear, Akaashi’s senses went on alert. Bokuto gazed at his wife and nodded, smiling tightly—but it quickly broadened when she kissed him softly on the cheek, careful not to leave a red lipstick stain on his skin. She then smiled at him—and even from this distance Akaashi could see that it was altogether not there. Walking away from Bokuto, she bowed respectfully to other guests as she walked, and Akaashi took her eye off her for a single second to look at Bokuto before draining his glass of champagne—which had been left sitting on the table next to him all this time—and going after her. He passed Kuroo on the way, who had been chatting up a storm with a small, round woman, sending him a hasty look. He heard Kuroo excuse himself and felt his presence behind him.

‘Leave Oikawa and Iwaizumi where they are,’ he told Kuroo quickly, spotting the pair of friends nearby, talking to each other with glasses in their hands.

‘Noted, chief.’

So Kuroo and Akaashi kept their eyes on Bokuto’s wife. Nothing she did was deemed all that suspicious: she grabbed another glass of champagne, her dark eyes trailing over the crowd as she took a sip, and she made small talk with a few others. That is, until her gaze focused on something nearby, staring at it for several moments. Her lips mouthed words Akaashi couldn’t make out for a minute or so before she ever so slightly jerked her head to the side, her eyes hooded and mouth curving upwards at the corners. She placed her empty glass down on a table and strode away with a now wicked smile painting her equally painted mouth. Kuroo and Akaashi swapped a meaningful look and went after her. Akaashi waded through the crowd, muttering politely, ‘Excuse me’ to each person he squeezed past. But the crowd seemed to be thickening and Akaashi could barely see the white dress of Bokuto’s wife any longer.

By the time he and Kuroo managed to get to the other side, she had disappeared. Akaashi sighed deeply, scanning the walls of the room just in case. When he didn’t pick her out, he placed a hand on Kuroo’s shoulder, using it to push him towards the door.

‘Outside. Check outside.’

He and Kuroo wasted not a single second as they rushed out, squinting in the dark and amongst the pouring rain for that flash of white. They were quickly joined by Oikawa and Iwaizumi, who hissed at them, ‘She went the other way—we both saw her!’ Panic settled into Akaashi’s stomach, gnawing away at him as they all raced back into the room, walking briskly and smiling politely at the guests as they passed. By the time they reached the other side, where Iwaizumi and Oikawa had seen her leave, she was nowhere to be seen.

Frowning deeply, Akaashi sought out Bokuto, and he saw him still conversing with guests, this time a tall and potbellied man well into his fifties. His wife wasn’t beside him as she had been all night. Akaashi turned to his men.

‘Did you see her leave with anyone?’ he asked Iwaizumi and Oikawa. When they shook their heads, Akaashi’s mind spun.

_Something’s not right…_

The thought was only reinforced by Akaashi's continuing observations. As the night went on and the party began to wrap up for the evening, Bokuto’s wife had still not returned. When Bokuto came up to Akaashi as the guests dispersed, he asked in a soft voice if he had seen his wife at all. As Akaashi shook his head slowly, Bokuto sent him a thin-lipped smile and his expression sagged.

She had not returned, and she had definitely been eyeing something—or _someone_ —before she had vanished. That alone was enough to make Akaashi believe that there was definitely something going on. This was now a case to be taken seriously. Bokuto had been truthful from the start.

Yet, Akaashi had already known that. How he had known, he still didn’t know. But he was determined to find out the truth. For Bokuto’s sake, if not his own.

 

* * *

 

They had decided to meet up in the pub near Bokuto’s place the next day in order to discuss the previous night’s happenings. Akaashi was, once more, waiting outside the pub, puffing away at a cigarette. His eyes were trained on the manor across the road, taking in gilded window frames against white brickwork. The windows were large, but not large enough to be able to see into the rooms. One would need a good camera for that… Given they were in the middle of a city, there wasn’t much of a front garden, but the fence and gate were overflowing with rose bushes and orchids, little spots of purple, pink and white amongst the black, shining paint of the wooden fence. It reminded Akaashi heavily of the European houses, the Lords of the manor and the dainty ladies sitting by and drinking tea. At least, that was what the novels he had read suggested of the continent.

Unlike last time, Akaashi didn’t have to wait long: he had reached halfway of his cigarette when Bokuto was heading down his path and out of his gate, crossing the road to reach Akaashi. There was a smile on his face, as ever, and Akaashi sent him back one of his own in greeting. They entered the pub, ordered a drink and sat down in the corner. As they sat down, settling into their seats, Akaashi noticed there was something different in Bokuto’s demeanour that day. Something was… off. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Bokuto took his glass and drained half of his drink in one go, grimacing when he put the glass down. Akaashi wanted to ask him what the matter was, but he refrained from doing so. 

That would be too much of a personal thing, wouldn’t it? After all, Bokuto was his _client._ Not his… friend…

‘So, Akaashi-san,’ Bokuto said to him, breaking the thick silence between them, ‘what have you got to tell me?’

Akaashi sighed softly through his nose and made himself stare fully into Bokuto’s face as he spoke. ‘There was definitely something odd in regards to your wife last night. Unfortunately, none of us managed to see exactly what it was. We… lost sight of her. I’m sorry.’

Bokuto looked surprised at his apology. ‘Akaashi-san, there’s no need to apologise! _I_ can hardly keep an eye on my wife—I don’t expect you to be able to do the same. It’s fine… we’ll get down to the bottom of it, right?’

Oh… Akaashi felt his heart tighten in his chest. Bokuto’s eyes had grown round, darting over Akaashi’s features and he was chewing his bottom lip. It was such a stark contrast to his delighted and positive attitude last night at the function that it threw Akaashi in for a loop. He started to reach out to touch his cheek, but quickly made the move to scratch his head. The feeling was overwhelming… to just reach out and soothe the man, to tell him with his fingers that it was going to be okay. He would work this out.

_Oh, the irony…_

Bokuto made no inkling that he had understood Akaashi’s sudden movement, instead keeping his fearful eyes on his. Akaashi attempted a smile, nodding in response to his silent plea. ‘Yes, Bokuto-san, we will get to the bottom of it. I will do everything in my power to find you the truth.’

As Bokuto’s expression brightened ever so slightly, Akaashi’s mind began to turn. The pub was a perfect vantage point to Bokuto’s manor… He decided he was going to have a word with the landlord after this meeting with Bokuto, see if he could set up Oikawa in there for a little while…

But at that moment, he picked up his glass and raised it towards Bokuto, whispering, ‘To the truth.’ Bokuto returned his words and finished the second half of his drink. Akaashi didn’t take a sip, just merely watched.

 

He had managed to send Bokuto home in higher spirits. In the taxi on the way back to the office, Akaashi’s mind was whirling. He was alarmed at how Bokuto managed to wear his heart on his sleeve, having never met anyone capable of such a thing. The most expressive people he had come to know were Kuroo and Oikawa, on the odd occasion Iwaizumi and on the _very_ rare occasion Kenma, but even they knew how to guard their secrets and remain indifferent to their emotions at times. Bokuto was capable of it too, Akaashi had seen it in action, but… it didn’t happen as much.

He had spoken to the landlord of the pub and had gained permission to use the storeroom. It was the perfect size to remain discreet, Akaashi was pleased to find, and he knew that Oikawa would feel the same. All he had left to do was to let the man know about his new task: take as many photos as necessary and observe the private lives of Bokuto’s wife in the manor and see if she ever brought home another man. Or woman. Whichever. They had to keep their options open.

Paying the driver the fare, having arrived, Akaashi looked up at their office building and let out a deep breath. He hoped that they would be able to find something soon… He walked up the three stairs to the front door and entered, hanging his hat and jacket on the hooks by it, noticing Oikawa’s and Iwaizumi’s own ones next to his. He shut the door with a soft click and paused when he heard a series of hushed voices wafting into their small entry. Treading softly, Akaashi kept his ears peeled and peeked around the corner of the entry, taking in Oikawa and Iwaizumi in the corner of the room, near their storeroom and Oikawa’s desk. The pair were whispering to each other urgently, their heads close together and their hands by their sides.

Akaashi didn’t make himself known, wanting to see what on earth these two were planning now—but he was alarmed at what he was seeing when Iwaizumi suddenly grabbed Oikawa’s hand and hissed, ‘We can’t do this!’

‘Why not?’ Oikawa muttered back, sighing heavily. Akaashi saw him tighten his fingers around Iwaizumi’s and as he leaned their foreheads together. ‘I can’t go on like this…’

‘We _have_ to be careful, Tooru…’

‘I know, Hajime… but Jesus, this is _killing_ me inside.’

That was enough. Akaashi walked back to the front door and opened it and shut it loudly. He couldn’t eavesdrop on them anymore. That wasn’t fair. He walked into the office space and saw that the pair had moved a metre or so apart from each other, Oikawa’s arms crossing over his chest and Iwaizumi’s landing in his pockets. Their voices were raised as they talked about what they were going to do about that week’s rent, the landlord was becoming annoyed.

‘Oikawa-san?’

Oikawa jumped at Akaashi’s voice and turned to face him. His voice became squeaky as he asked, ‘Yes?’

Akaashi gestured that he come closer, telling him, ‘I have a job for you.’

Blinking owlishly at him, Oikawa walked up to him and Akaashi told him of his task in a robotic tone. It was strange… but for a moment, Akaashi had seen Bokuto instead of Oikawa, blinking at him curiously with those deep pools of gold…

For the first time in a very long while, Akaashi felt jealously frothing in his stomach. What he was jealous about exactly, he had no clue.

 

* * *

 

A week had gone by. Akaashi was in the pub outside Bokuto’s manor once more, only this time, Oikawa was by his side. The pair were hiding in the storeroom for the fourth time since Akaashi had gotten permission from the landlord, Akaashi sitting on the windowsill and Oikawa gazing through the lens of his camera, which was pointing right at Bokuto’s mansion. There were deep lines on Oikawa’s forehead as he took snaps of the house, determined to catch every detail. He was good at that.

Blowing out a haze of smoke from the butt-end of his cigarette, Akaashi glanced out the window before looking at Oikawa. ‘See anything?’

‘Not as of yet…’ Oikawa muttered, lifting his head up to look over his camera as he moved it around to get a better angle. ‘I can see Bokuto-san in his study… but that’s about it for now. No wife, no secret lover…’

Humming in acknowledgement, Akaashi returned his gaze to the world outside the window, dragging on his cigarette once more before snuffing it out on the ledge. That phrase had become standard over the past couple of days. Nothing to see. Nothing yet. Everything is the same as before. He was started to get irritated. This case was taking way too long to figure out. He was itching for answers, but instead, he was only getting more questions. As he blew smoke, Akaashi’s eyebrows furrowed when he saw a familiar sight walking on the path right outside the manor. Just as he moved past the gate, there was a snap from Oikawa’s camera, alongside a satisfied sound.

Putting two and two together, Akaashi let a small smirk play upon his lips as he said casually, ‘Well, that’s a shame… But I do see an Iwaizumi-san.’

Oikawa turned to stare at him blankly, blinking once before looking out beyond his camera. Akaashi fought hard not to laugh as Oikawa’s voice became light and airy—synonymous with lying—as he cried, ‘Oh! So it is! He’s working hard, by the looks of it.’

‘Mm, indeed…’ Akaashi continued to gaze at his colleague. ‘I don’t recall asking for pictures of our team, Oikawa-san.’

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Oikawa laughed—nervously, Akaashi noted—and turned back to his camera. ‘Why would I be taking pictures of Iwa-chan? I do take my work seriously!’

‘I never said you didn’t take your work seriously, Oikawa-san,’ Akaashi elaborated matter-of-factly, grinning lopsidedly. ‘I was merely making an observation.’ He gave him a side-eyed glance. ‘Although that being said… you better be careful how you act with him. You could get into trouble.’

There was silence. Akaashi saw the muscles in Oikawa’s back tighten, and his hands froze against his camera. He snapped his head towards Akaashi, his dark eyes cool and steeled over. His voice was harsh as he whispered, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I don’t appreciate what you’re suggesting.’

Akaashi sighed and leant forward on his knees. Oikawa’s defence was understandable. It was a dangerous thing in their world to fall in love with someone of the same sex, let alone to actually discuss it and address it publicly. Ever since he had caught them in the office, Akaashi had been keeping tabs on them, observing them to see if they were being careful. He had never brought it up for the sake of privacy, for he didn’t want to lose their trust in him over the issue. But he was becoming very afraid for them both. They had been rather obvious in their feelings for each other around the office, and Akaashi was fearful of the idea that they were doing the same out in the streets. Oikawa’s photographing Iwaizumi across the street was yet another indicator of their recklessness—which surprised Akaashi, for Iwaizumi as a man was very rational and sensible, often being the one putting Oikawa into line, as evidence by their argument he had walked in on—and as a friend and boss, it all made him very concerned.

It was time to say something. For their sakes. Before they got themselves in trouble. Akaashi would never forgive himself if that happened.

‘Oikawa-san, let me make one thing very clear. I do not care whom you fall in love with,’ he told him softly. ‘I only worry about how reckless you and Iwaizumi-san have been as of late. Don’t deny it,’ he added, seeing Oikawa opening his mouth to retort, ‘I’ve seen you. But don’t take that as a bad thing. I’ve got your back if things get hairy, but please, for the love of god, don’t let it get hairy!’

Oikawa’s expression was one of shock. His mouth opened and closed, like a fish, several times, trying to find the right words. In the end, he settled with, ‘Have we… have we really been that careless?’

‘ _Yes._ ’ Akaashi reached out a hand and planted it on Oikawa’s shoulder. ‘I am not telling you to stop loving him or seeing him. I only plead that you are more careful. Imagine if it was someone else in here instead of me when you took that photograph, someone who knew Iwaizumi-san and would have seen him walking through this window. They would have been incredibly suspicious, and they would have been on high alert, watching your every move—and then what? For you to be thrown in jail for sodomy? Do you want that to happen?’

‘No! Of course not…’

‘Then please be more careful.’

There was a slight pause before Oikawa nodded slowly and returned to his camera. Akaashi let out a sigh, glad to see that his words had gone into his colleague’s head. Looking out the window once more, he could vaguely see Bokuto in his study, as Oikawa had said earlier, his broad shoulders filling the window pane. But he was curious about one thing…

‘How long has it been?’

Oikawa didn’t say anything for a moment and Akaashi wondered if he had heard him at all. But then he whispered, ‘A couple of weeks, at the most. But the feelings have been there for a while… We’ve just been… scared, I suppose, to act upon them faster.’

Akaashi nodded in acknowledgement, understanding exactly where Oikawa was coming from. It was no easy feat to hide one’s feelings… But for them, it was a must in order to survive. Akaashi didn’t have time to ponder much longer when Oikawa cleared his throat.

‘Aka-chan?’

‘Yes, Oikawa-san?’

‘If you tell Iwa-chan about me taking photos of him, I won’t bring anymore snacks to the office.’

Akaashi let loose a smile. ‘Noted.’

Oikawa let out a satisfied hum and grabbed another photo with a loud _snap!_

 

* * *

 

Two days passed. Still no developments had occurred, despite putting both Kuroo and Iwaizumi on alternating day and night shifts to see if they could catch Bokuto’s wife in the act of doing something that could be filed into evidence. As he sat in the pub waiting for Bokuto to arrive, Akaashi felt sick in his stomach. He hated telling Bokuto that were was nothing new in their case, nothing to give him in terms of hard evidence to relieve his doubt that his wife was being unfaithful. Bokuto had gone home on the verge of tears, clearly frustrated, and Akaashi felt his heart getting stuck in his throat each time. The more he saw Bokuto, the urge to comfort him physically grew deeper and more intense. He began to notice even more things about him, and the more he found out, the more he didn’t want him to leave.

The more he didn’t want him to return home to his wife.

Akaashi buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly into them. What on earth was going on with him? He had never been like this. Ever. What exactly was Bokuto doing to him? 

But in terms of developments, at least there had been one with Oikawa and Iwaizumi. They were less obvious in their affections around the office, which Akaashi was grateful for. At least he knew that they were safe and not in danger of being caught. His friends were being sensible for once, but more than that… Akaashi had been alarmed to find himself thinking that he no longer felt jealous, since he was not seeing them being caught up in their emotions for each other.

Akaashi cursed Bokuto inwardly. _Ever since you’ve come to me with this case, you’ve been doing something to me… What are you doing to me? What is going on?_ He sighed.

‘Akaashi-san? Are you alright?’

Lifting his head, Akaashi came face-to-face with Bokuto. His eyes were round with concern, his eyebrows tilted upwards into his streaked hair. Akaashi nodded quickly and frowned heavily when he took in Bokuto’s appearance properly.

Sagged shoulders. Downturned mouth. A crease above the bridge of his nose, between his eyebrows. Dark bags under his eyes. Paler skin.

‘I’m fine, Bokuto-san,’ Akaashi told him, watching as Bokuto sat across him, placing his hat on the table. ‘But I could ask you the same thing. Is everything okay?’

Akaashi had never understood so much from a sigh as he did then. Bokuto slid into his seat and immediately set his gaze out the window, resting his cheek in his palm. Akaashi heard him swallow and watched his Adam’s apple move as he did so, the top buttons of his shirt having been undone. That was new, for Bokuto had always had an impeccable appearance.

‘I don’t know what to think anymore, Akaashi-san,’ Bokuto whispered, his tone heavy. ‘One would think that being married for three years would let you know that person inside out. But the truth of it all? I know nothing about my wife, Akaashi-san.’

The urge to comfort him physically came back tenfold and Akaashi tried with all his might to resist. He couldn’t give Bokuto the wrong idea. No, he was there as a professional, as private investigator who was supposed to figure out the truth behind his client’s worries and dubiousness. So instead, he sent him a sympathetic look and whispered, ‘Does anyone truly know anybody?’

Bokuto glanced at him and let out a soft sound. ‘Perhaps not.’

Akaashi smiled at him gently, then asked, ‘What appears to be the problem?’

Letting out another sigh, Bokuto crossed his arms over the table and gazed at Akaashi deeply. ‘My wife… She’s become even more distant. She hardly speaks to me anymore and when she does, it’s to tell me that she’s going out. But whenever I ask her where it is she’s going, she tells me to mind my own business and just… walks away.

‘I heard her leaving… early in the morning,’ he continued, his gaze dropping to the table. ‘It must have been around two or three o’clock in the morning, I can’t be sure. She snuck out… and didn’t return. I heard the front door shut and it didn’t reopen until she came back before I left to meet you here. I asked her where she had gone and why she had come home so late, but she just smiled at me and walked away, denying anything, that she had been in bed all night. “You’re dreaming of these things,” she told me. I… I don’t know what to think anymore, Akaashi-san.’

Akaashi nodded in acknowledgement, remembering what Iwaizumi and Kuroo had told him earlier that morning upon opening up shop. She had, indeed, snuck out of the Bokuto manor in the early hours, whereby Kuroo—given it had been his shift—had followed her down the dimly-lit street. However, due to the darkness of the night and the quick pace Bokuto’s wife had been going at, Kuroo had quickly lost sight of her, abandoning ship when he realised that he couldn’t follow her without making a racket. It wouldn’t do any of them good if they were found out by the client’s member of the guilty party, in any circumstance. They knew when to reach the edge of the line without stepping over it. Kuroo, regrettably, had to let this one go.

But Bokuto was clearly unsatisfied with not knowing what his wife was up to. All Akaashi could do was whisper to him gently, ‘I know it’s frustrating, but let us do the thinking. Let us do our jobs and find the truth so we can put your mind at ease. You stressing yourself out isn’t good for your health, nor is it going to give you any answers. That is what we’re here for, so let us do what is necessary and find out exactly what is going on with your wife. Yes?’

When Bokuto’s mouth curved slightly at the corners in what Akaashi could only describe as a grateful smile, the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach started to fade. Instead, Akaashi felt his heart pick up speed, although he wasn’t quite sure why it did. 

 

Later that night, right before it was time to close for the day, Akaashi was sitting in his office, twirling his pen between his fingers. Spread out in front of him were all his hand-written notes, the pages filled with his slanted penmanship, detailing everything from Iwaizumi’s and Kuroo’s outings, to Oikawa’s photographs to Kenma’s meticulous observations of the Bokuto accounts—it was proving to be a long read, but Akaashi needed to be sure he had all the facts.

Thus far, all they had managed to deduce was that Bokuto’s wife was, indeed, acting very suspiciously. Her random outings at odd moments in the day and returning either late in the evening or not at all coincided with Iwaizumi’s and Kuroo’s observations over the past couple of weeks, as well as Bokuto’s earlier remark about her trip early in the morning. The only thing that, surprisingly, remained intact and untouched were the accounts. All the money was there, and there were no large sums or strange amounts being withdrawn on a daily or weekly basis. 

The entire case reeked of dubiousness, and Akaashi was getting frustrated over how nothing seemed to be fitting together, how nothing seemed to lead to any answers. Sighing deeply, he dumped the pen on top the papers and turned his gaze to the window. The darkness was crawling amongst the fading light of the sky. Checking his watch, Akaashi saw that it was time to close for the day—and good thing too, for his mind was swimming with unanswered questions. He needed a drink.

Walking out of his office, Akaashi shut the door with a soft sound, not wanting to disturb the silence and moved towards the exit. But then he paused, freezing in his movements, when he heard soft laughing coming from the back of the office…

_The storeroom?_

Frowning deeply, Akaashi slowly treaded towards the storeroom, careful not to make any sudden noises. The laughing had turned into delighted giggles and Akaashi could hear the familiar sound of… oh god. Akaashi didn’t waste a moment to slam open the door to the storeroom and say coolly, ‘What on earth is going on in here?’

Kuroo and Kenma had been hidden amongst the papers, clearly indulging in each other. Kuroo had flown backwards into the wall, smacking his head against it, and groaned in slight pain. Kenma stared wide-eyed at Akaashi, fixing his mussed hair. Akaashi was shocked to see that clothes were still on them… just slightly crinkled. He let out a breath of relief.

‘Akaashi!’ Kuroo cried, laughing humourlessly. ‘What are you still doing here? I thought you went home?’

He withered at the look Akaashi sent him and withdrew even further into himself when Akaashi replied with a simple, ‘I could ask you the very same question.’

Akaashi was, to be quite honest, in a state of confusion. He had worked with these men for years, knew them better than anyone else and yet… in the space of a few weeks, he had caught all four of them in the act of being affectionate with each other. How had he missed such obvious emotions? None of them were good at hiding their feelings with the exception of Kenma… so how on earth did he miss it? How did Akaashi not manage to identify the love between Oikawa and Iwaizumi? Between Kenma and Kuroo, who had hidden away to share a series of kisses and soft touches in a place where they couldn’t be caught—or so they thought—for no doubt there was nowhere else to do it: Kenma’s home was always full and Kuroo rented with a landlord with a hawk’s eye, even more sharp than Akaashi’s, or so he had been told.

However, did _none_ of them know of the danger?

Staring Kuroo straight in the eye, Akaashi murmured, ‘I don’t care what you two get up to but please, do be more careful. You’ll get into trouble if you’re caught by someone who isn’t me.’ 

Kuroo’s eyes narrowed and he snorted gently, waving a dismissive hand. ‘What are you talking about, Akaashi? I was just helping Kenma find some papers! You need to get your eyes checked.’

Akaashi gazed at him for a little longer before flicking his gaze to Kenma. Kenma had his head bowed, his teeth worrying his lip. He couldn’t meet Akaashi’s gaze, so Akaashi turned back to Kuroo one last time before pivoting on his heel and heading back towards the door to the office.

‘Do not take me for a fool, Kuroo-san,’ Akaashi told him matter-of-factly, and the last thing he saw before locking up for the night was a very embarrassed, flushed-cheek Kenma and a slack-jawed Kuroo.

Honestly, was there no common sense in this office?

 

* * *

 

Throughout the years, Akaashi had been the main source of gossip amongst the office. It was to be expected, of course, given his rather secretive nature. He knew about the rumours that flew between the four men whom he worked with. Was he alone? Did he have any other friends outside work? Was he in love with anyone? The questions all had some very interesting answers. They changed over time, but at the current stage, about a week or so after Akaashi had found Kuroo and Kenma in the storeroom, they had taken quite a curious turn.

It was late in the day, past four o’clock, and everyone aside from Akaashi were in a huddle at their desks. Anyone could see that they were talking about something serious, evidenced by their frowns and thoughtful expressions.

‘I wonder about Akaashi sometimes,’ Kuroo whispered to the others. ‘You know, the usual and all. But something has been bothering me lately and I can’t seem to put my finger on it.’ 

‘Mm, I know what you mean,’ Iwaizumi muttered, frowning deeply. ‘It’s as if… he’s more cryptic than usual or something.’

‘Yeah, not to mention he _knows_ things about us,’ Oikawa added, looking over his shoulder briefly to Akaashi’s office door. ‘Yet, he doesn’t appear to mind? I find that strange.’ He let out a soft gasp. ‘ _Maybe he’s like us?’_

‘What, into men?’ Kuroo leaned back in his chair and put a leg over his knee. ‘That… could possibly be an answer, Oikawa.’

‘You might want to keep your voices down more,’ Kenma uttered, his eyes trained on Akaashi’s office door. ‘You know he can hear everything.’

Kenma was correct, of course. Akaashi could hear them loud and clear from his office and could see what they were doing through the blinds of his window. It amused him to hear what the others thought of his private life. His favourite had been a theory of Oikawa’s a while ago: he spent his nights in a “gentleman’s club”, took home the same woman and then woke up the next morning to a tall glass of whiskey. Akaashi mused as to what their perceptions of him would be if they knew that all he did when he wasn’t working was read books until he fell asleep or do the daily crosswords in the newspaper. At their latest theory, he frowned deeply, wondering where they were going to go with this.

It wasn’t as if they were wrong. Akaashi _was_ into men—but unlike his co-workers, he didn’t go making it obvious... nor did he have a man to make things obvious with. He hadn’t had one for a while.

‘I suppose it would make sense,’ Iwaizumi said matter-of-factly. ‘Not to mention… have you noticed the way he acts with Bokuto-san and this case? He’s more interested than he has been with the previous ones.’

‘Our _client?_ ’ Kuroo laughed loudly. Then he paused. ‘Oh god, you’re serious.’

‘Of course I am!’

‘I agree with Iwaizumi-senpai,’ Kenma said softly. ‘You said it yourself, Kuroo, before we took on the case—Akaashi-senpai _always_ puts them on a trial run, yet he hesitated with Bokuto-senpai.’

‘Not to mention how nice he is to him most of the time,’ Oikawa whispered. ‘Or so I’ve heard from you lot. Have you noticed the way he speaks about him? How distant he looks when we discuss him? How much he’s concerned about us being “open with our affections”? It’s like he’s—’

‘Infatuated.’ Kuroo let out a chuckle. ‘And _jealous._ My god… Our boss is in some serious shit, boys.’

‘Shut up, shut up _now_ ,’ Iwaizumi hissed, eyes growing wide as Akaashi’s office door creaked open.

The room seemed to shrink when Akaashi entered it. His eyes flashed as he glared at his colleagues, and the air grew static with tension as they stared back at him, caught like deer in headlights. Akaashi didn’t like where their theory was heading for several reasons—not that he was going to divulge said reasons to anyone—and he wanted to stop it in its tracks immediately. He heard Oikawa and Kuroo swallow thickly before they went back to discussing something about their work, saw Kenma slowly move back to his desk and watched as Iwaizumi fiddled with the huge folder that had been sitting upon the surface of his table for two hours.

‘Do you all have nothing better to do than to gossip?’ Akaashi uttered, his voice low. He tried not to laugh at the stricken looks on their faces. ‘Get to work!’

‘Yes, sir!’

Blowing out a breath through his nose, Akaashi’s mind whirled with their words. Him, infatuated? With _Bokuto-san?_ He would never… Bokuto was married! Their very job at that moment, and for the past several weeks, was investigating the possible unfaithfulness of his wife. Just what on earth were they thinking? Akaashi was smarter than to fall in love or being fond of a married man—or woman, for that matter. He had made that mistake once in his life. Akaashi wasn’t going to do it again, and certainly not with Bokuto.

No, definitely not.

‘I _told_ you he could hear!’ he then heard Kenma mutter to the others, but he didn’t turn his head towards him to scare the poor boy; instead, he walked up to Iwaizumi’s space and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow expectantly. Iwaizumi’s eyes flicked up to his hesitantly, but his voice was one of curiosity as he asked, ‘What is it?’

Akaashi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ‘Do I need to tell you what your job is now? Have you found out anything? Did the owner of the bar say anything? Did you see anything outside Bokuto-san’s house? Did you see his wife? Did you see a lover?’ He scanned his eyes over the rest of them. ‘Have we got _anything_ to tell Bokuto-san?’

There was a pause. Akaashi nearly started shouting, wanting to complain about their work habits. There had to be something, surely! This was getting ridiculous, the weeks were passing by and _still_ no answers! But luckily Kenma raised his hand slowly, fearfully, cutting Akaashi off before he could open his mouth and make his thoughts heard. In his hand was a white, smooth folder and Akaashi’s irritation faded at the sight of it. When he sent Kenma a raised eyebrow and a flick of his wrist, Kenma licked his lips and his eyes darted from Akaashi’s face to the folder he held.

‘I managed to find some interesting… um… financial records of Bokuto-senpai’s wife.’

All eyes landed on Kenma. Akaashi glided towards him and sat on the edge of his desk. He didn’t have to say anything; just by his crossed arms, the inclination of his body and the spark in eyes was all it took for Kenma to open the folder and take out several pieces of paper. The other three gathered around Kenma, Kuroo peering over his shoulder, Oikawa sitting on Kenma’s other side, like Akaashi, and Iwaizumi observing from the back.

‘Everything up until this point in time, nothing has been tampered within the accounts,’ Kenma began as he leaved through several pieces of paper. ‘Bokuto-senpai withdrew funds from his account and his wife from hers. They have a joint account, as you all know, and that hasn’t been touched for a while. Until three days ago.’

Pulling out a page, Kenma shook it out slightly and cleared his throat. He picked up his pen and started circling amounts on the margins of the page, followed by the date and the time.

‘I got this from their bank earlier today,’ Kenma murmured, his voice low, as it always had been, but it was laced with a confusion Akaashi hadn’t heard in it before. ‘Here… You see these amounts? They were taken out over these past three days, each one a different amount but… Well, just look at them.’

Peering over at the numbers, Akaashi’s eyebrows flew into his hairline. He didn’t have to do the maths in order to understand that Bokuto’s wife had taken out three very large sums of money, about three times as much as she took out from her own personal account. They had long since accepted that Bokuto had given his wife the chance to have her own personal freedom and therefore didn’t need him to oversee her finances—which was, of course, very unlike the other women in society—but to see her suddenly taking money from their shared account… Now that was very odd indeed.

He heard Kuroo whistle lowly from behind Kenma and he looked up to see Kuroo very much mirroring Akaashi’s own shocked expression. ‘That’s a _lot_ of money…’ Then he frowned and turned to Iwaizumi, whose jaw had slackened upon viewing the figures. ‘Iwaizumi, didn’t we see her carrying a larger bag than usual?’

Akaashi saw Iwaizumi blink up at Kuroo before slowly nodding his head. ‘Yes, we did. Do you think she might have been carrying the money in that?’

‘Would explain why she had been in a hurry,’ Kuroo muttered, then explained to the others how he and Iwaizumi had seen her late yesterday afternoon with a large bag. She had been going at an “unmatched speed” to them, hurrying along until they had lost sight of her. She had looked frantic, as per Iwaizumi’s description, clutching onto that bag for the dear life of her.

Akaashi’s eyes slid shut and he let out a sigh. _Alright… Odd amounts in the accounts, a suspicious looking wife carrying a large bag… What on earth is this woman up to? Is she paying someone? Is she buying something? What on earth does she need this much cash for?_ He was brought out of his thoughts when Oikawa cleared his throat. Landing his eyes on his face, Akaashi saw him in a deep frown, his tongue between his teeth before he spoke.

‘I’m still waiting for my photographs to get developed,’ Oikawa told them all, clasping his hands his lap and crossing his legs, ‘but I did see Bokuto-san’s wife conversing with a man a few days ago… I couldn’t make out his face, since I was too far away to actually see. However, hopefully my camera did a better job at identifying who he is. Maybe he has something to do with this?’

‘It is a possibility,’ Akaashi whispered, rubbing his temple with his fingertips. God, this case was turning into a nightmare… ‘Until we find out for certain, we must keep our options open. Continue to keep me in the loop with your tasks and I’ll see if I can find out anything else from Bokuto-san.’ Akaashi then gave them all a long, hard look and said in a stern voice, ‘And if I find you lot gossiping around the office once again, I will have words with you, understood?’

He received four stiff and hurried nods, none of them daring to say a word against him. Akaashi let out a small sound of satisfaction, and, checking the time, told them to start getting home. As they all started to pack up for the day, they all paused when there was a knock on their office door. Exchanging a puzzled look with his colleagues, Akaashi went to open it, only to blink in surprise when he saw Bokuto standing in the doorway, his hat in his hands and a sheepish grin on his lips.

‘Bokuto-san,’ he greeted, bowing his head. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘My apologies for the intrusion,’ Bokuto replied, and his eyes landed on the men behind Akaashi and he bowed in their direction. ‘Gentlemen—I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to come to tomorrow’s scheduled meet up. There is a relative coming to visit and they insist on being shown around the city. So… is there perhaps any chance we can do it now? Or the day after tomorrow?’

Of course… Akaashi had been planning to discuss whatever he and the others had found out today the following day. He knew that they wouldn’t have found out much, but he liked to keep Bokuto up-to-date regardless. Besides, it was an excuse to see him.

Akaashi inwardly took a double take at himself. _Where did that come from?_

In response to Bokuto’s question, Akaashi smiled gently at him and said, ‘Now is fine. We’re finishing up for the day so now’s a time as good as any. Don’t want to keep you waiting too long.’

Bokuto beamed at him, and at the sight of his radiant smile, Akaashi’s heart suddenly skipped a beat. It was… rather cute… He quickly straightened his back and told Bokuto to wait just a moment, and went into his office to grab his things. On the way, he heard Oikawa whispering to the others in an awed tone.

‘Did you just see that? Did Akaashi just _smile_?’

On the way out, Akaashi didn’t hesitate to shoot Oikawa a heavy glare, one that spelt out _I’ll-deal-with-you-later._

 

Sipping away at this second or third shot of sake, Akaashi kept his gaze on Bokuto. He had curled up against the side of the kotatsu, not bothered to get under the blankets there, or to sit in a proper fashion. He was tired, and he wanted to relax. Bokuto hadn’t made a comment about it—in fact, he had mirrored Akaashi’s stance and was facing him with his elbow rested on the edge of the kotatsu.

When they had left the office building in search of place to drink and talk, they had quickly discovered that all the local pubs were filled to the brim. So Akaashi had swallowed his pride and his underlying fear and had asked Bokuto if he would like to discuss things in Akaashi’s house. Bokuto had agreed—rather quickly, Akaashi had noticed, though had said nothing of it—and that was how they ended up sitting in Akaashi’s main room, with a half empty bottle of sake in the middle of the kotatsu and no formalities hanging in the air.

It was Bokuto who had brought up the issue, from the moment they had entered Akaashi’s front door. He had told him in a soft voice how since they were in private quarters, it would be best if Akaashi were to refer to his first name. Akaashi had been surprised, even more so when he had found himself agreeing. He had to admit, he had shivers running down his spine when Bokuto’s tongue formed the syllables of his first name, a name anyone had hardly uttered in his lifetime, save for his mother and his younger sister.

Akaashi had quickly brought Bokuto up to date with the news of the case, and Bokuto had been confused over the odd amounts in the account. ‘Must be paying for some new clothes or household times,’ Bokuto had murmured thoughtfully into his glass. ‘We’ll get to the bottom of it, I have faith in you and your men.’

Despite his confident demeanour, there was something else going on in Bokuto’s head that night, Akaashi could tell. His gaze fluttered from surface to surface, not staying in one spot for too long, and his lips met the edge of his glass faster than Akaashi’s met his. It was safe to say that Bokuto had twice as much to drink than Akaashi had, but Akaashi had to play the good host and didn’t dare tell him to stop.

The conversation they were having at that point was proving to be very interesting.

‘Marriage is a complicated thing, Keiji,’ Bokuto told him matter-of-factly, his eyebrows high on his forehead and his fingers dancing along the edge of his glass. ‘I knew that from the moment my father told me that I was going to be married to a stranger. I have to admit, it has been interesting, good even, until all of this hit us on the head.’ He paused in his thoughts and then whispered, ‘I feel like I’ve grown up too fast, Keiji. As if I didn’t have the time to experience childhood to its full potential. One minute I was a child, playing with soldiers and learning to read and the next, I have a woman by my side calling herself my wife. Strange, isn’t it?’

Akaashi nodded in acknowledgement, knowing exactly what Bokuto meant. ‘I know what you mean… I had to grow up faster than most children my age when my father passed away. My mother was sick so I had the responsibility to raise myself and my sister. I’ve never married, but I know what it’s like to be one thing one minute and then something else the next.’

When Bokuto looked at him, his eyes slightly round and his posture stiff, Akaashi realised exactly what he had said. He had never spoken of his childhood to anyone before, not even the chaotic men that were his colleagues. They had a vague inkling of his past, but nothing in detail. Akaashi couldn’t believe how easily it had managed to slip out of his mouth. _Bokuto-san… what_ are _you doing to me? When did I become so careless with my words?_

But Bokuto then smiled and raised his glass. ‘To lost childhoods.’

Akaashi snorted softly and returned the gesture, not hesitating to down his drink. He felt the burn of it tickle his throat and he held back a laugh at the slight groan that came from Bokuto as he put his empty glass back on the table. He let out a sigh, shutting his large, golden eyes; it gave Akaashi the opportunity to take in the planes of his cheeks and the long line of his nose, the thickness of his eyelashes and the shadow of his stubble in the dimly lit room.

Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, but Bokuto was… truly lovely. Beautiful even.

_God, I’ve been alone for too long… Get a hold of yourself, Keiji._

‘But, you know, Keiji… childhood is nothing compared to another confusion I’ve lived with my whole life.’ Bokuto’s voice was so quiet Akaashi nearly missed what he had said. He hadn’t heard Bokuto’s voice be so soft before… ‘I’ve never been able to understand it properly, or come to terms with what it is exactly but… it’s always been there, even before I fell in love with my wife.’

Akaashi frowned at that. ‘What do you mean, Koutarou?’ He felt his blood go cold at the next thing Bokuto said.

‘I’ve always felt more attracted to men, you know?’ He poured himself another glass of sake and took a small sip, but not before giving some for Akaashi as well. ‘I mean, women are lovely and I like them too, but… I don’t know, it’s like I click more with men.’

He could only stare at Bokuto in mild shock. He hadn’t been expecting to hear _that._ That was what had been making him act strangely? Bokuto, liking men? Like him? Like Oikawa and Iwaizumi? Like Kenma and Kuroo? No… no, that was not meant to happen. But it was happening right in front of him and Akaashi found himself thinking whether or not he wanted to know this. This was a married man talking to him, for god’s sake! What if the next time he saw Akaashi, Bokuto didn’t act as he usually did? What if he became distant? Akaashi didn’t think he could cope with that.

So all he said was, ‘I don’t know if you should be telling me this.’

Yet…

_Please… please tell me. I need to know more._

Bokuto merely frowned at him, gaping at him as if he had grown two-heads. Akaashi resisted the urge to laugh at the expression of offense on his face—not that he was really offended, Akaashi knew that—and as he stuck out his bottom lip.

‘Why not?’ He paused as his brain caught up to him. ‘Oh right… the “sodomy” thing, right? Well… as long as we keep it between us, it should be fine, yeah?’

 _Oh, you naïve, naïve young man. You should be thanking your lucky stars that I understand exactly where you’re coming from._ Akaashi sighed, took a large sip of courage and placed his glass on the kotatsu.

‘Of course,’ he said slowly. ‘But it’s a good thing that I understand. If I were someone else, Koutarou, you could be in huge trouble.’

There was a slight pause as Bokuto nodded in understanding. His eyes landed on his glass once more and Akaashi frowned when he saw his expression darken. His mouth turned down at the corners, his fingers remained still and his eyes weren’t fluttering around the room as they had been before. Then, after several moments, Bokuto hid his face in his hands and let out a sob, much to his surprise. His shoulders shook and his breathing was muffled and shaky against his palms. Akaashi unconsciously placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles into it as Bokuto began to blubber.

‘I just want to be understood, Akaashi!’ He hiccupped. ‘My wife hates me, I’m a failure and I just… I just want to be happy. Is that too much to ask?’

‘First of all, Koutarou,’ Akaashi told him sternly, not liking where Bokuto’s thinking was heading, ‘you are not a failure. Second, you are understood. I understand you… and you _can_ be happy. You have choices in life. You’re your own person, despite what anyone else may tell you.’

Bokuto sent him a watery smile, laughing softly to himself as he shook his head. ‘Thank you, Keiji… but it’s not that easy, we both know that.’ He let out another dry sob and ran his hands through his hair. ‘I’ll be honest, Keiji. If I hadn’t been forced to marry my wife, I would have happily lived out my days with a man by my side. But I suppose you wouldn’t quite understand,’ he added in a whisper, peeking at Akaashi from under his eyelashes.

Akaashi’s mind was whirling. He _did_ understand. God, did he! He was arguing with himself whether or not to be honest and tell him the truth, or to hold his secrets—like had done all his life—to himself, never to be shown to anyone else. It appeared that his mouth, however, had made up its own mind and Akaashi’s voice filled the room.

‘I do understand. You’re talking to someone who has loved and been with men. It has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. It is nothing to be ashamed of, despite society keeping tabs on us, but between you and me, we can talk about this.’ He squeezed Bokuto’s shoulder tightly, watching as his eyes widened and as the light seeped back into the gold. ‘I don’t mind.’

And at the smile that brought all the joy that Bokuto held back into his face, Akaashi knew that he didn’t mind either.

 

An hour went by. They talked about anything and everything, like a pair of old friends catching up on years of gossip. Akaashi had found himself enjoying the conversation, and Bokuto’s company even more so. He watched as Bokuto’s stiff posture loosened with each sip he took, as the blush in his cheeks became pinker, and it endeared him in a strange way. Akaashi felt himself getting warm… but was it from the alcohol, or was it because of Bokuto’s lazy smile, carefree and untainted by his daily struggles? Akaashi knew it had taken a lot of courage for Bokuto to admit his deepest feelings like that… But was it having an effect on him? Clearly it was, for he had revealed a number of his own secrets too. It was bizarre, but he trusted Bokuto. He did.

Right?

 _It’s the alcohol._ He shook his head inwardly. _Careful, Akaashi. Don’t turn into Oikawa-san and Iwaizumi-san. Don’t turn into Kuroo-san and Kenma-kun. Koutarou is married. For god’s sake, you are investigating his_ wife!

But all rational thought suddenly went out the window when Bokuto grabbed his hand, his touch soft; he gave it a squeeze and Akaashi’s heart skipped multiple beats. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Yet, it was. Akaashi found himself wishing that the moment would never end. Bokuto’s hand was warm, his hold oddly secure. Oh, it had been too long since he had last been with a man, been this closer to another human.

‘You have very long fingers,’ Bokuto whispered into the silence, bringing Akaashi’s hand into his lap. ‘Look—my palm is bigger than yours, but because of your fingers, your hand is altogether larger than mine.’

Akaashi didn’t know what to say; all he did was smile, and he shocked himself when he didn’t make the move to remove his hand from Bokuto’s grip. He didn’t want to. Bokuto then tore his eyes from Akaashi’s hand and sent him a side glance, one that made Akaashi unable to look away. Bokuto’s golden gaze dug into him, the colour so enticing that Akaashi was reminded of an owl. Staring. Always staring. Studying one inside out just with their eyes. Bokuto was exactly like that at that moment.

For once, it was Akaashi being read, being investigated.

Then, Bokuto did the unthinkable. Akaashi didn’t have time to protest when Bokuto came _very_ close to his face. He paused, gauging Akaashi’s reaction, it seemed, his eyes eventually flicking down to Akaashi’s mouth. A little closer… and they touched. Akaashi was floored. Just like his hand, Bokuto was warm. His lips were smooth, and Akaashi didn’t fail to notice how wonderfully they fit against his. It was a brush of a touch, barely there, but it was enough to make tingles erupt all over Akaashi’s body.

Perhaps due to his drunken state, Akaashi’s rationality dissolved into nothing but air as he began to kiss Bokuto back, his eyes sliding shut. Their hands hadn’t parted, so Akaashi interlinked their fingers as he tilted his head to the side to kiss Bokuto deeper. He found himself feeling overjoyed when Bokuto grinned into their barter, even more so when Bokuto’s other hand came to rest on his cheek, cupping it in his palm.

His body was on fire. It had been many months since he had been this close to another man. Yet, unlike his former lovers, Akaashi felt something close to _love_ for Bokuto, despite knowing him for such a short time. Love… it was a strange thing. It came and went as it pleased—at least, that was in Akaashi’s case. He had loved his previous partners, of course. There was no questioning that. But Bokuto made him feel a different kind of love altogether. He couldn’t put his finger on it—all he knew was that he needed to kiss him more.

So he did.

Akaashi’s hand went through Bokuto’s hair as their kiss became rough. He needed to be closer… to be pressed against him… so he moved forward until his knee was touching Bokuto’s thigh, and the air was knocked out of him when Bokuto’s arms wrapped around his waist, effectively pulling him into his lap. Shivers erupted all over his body at how fantastic he and Bokuto fit together. He couldn’t keep his hands or mouth still; his mouth continued to press kisses onto Bokuto’s lips as his fingers carded through his hair, his nails tracing the shape of his skull, right down to the nape of his neck. 

They were both drunk from more than just their drinks. Akaashi’s heart was pulling at its strings, overwhelmed from how amazing this was. His chest hurt from lack of air and from the tightness that came with the desire that had, no doubt, been building up from the first day they had met. Akaashi then realised that the tension between them had been growing and growing and growing—this, this right here, was their breaking point.

But then the reality came crashing down.

He pulled away—slowly, as to not startle Bokuto—and gazed at him deeply. There was a perfectly painted expression of bliss on Bokuto’s face: his eyes shut, eyelids fluttering and a half-smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His cheeks were pinker still, and when he opened his eyes—just a sliver—the golden colour had darkened to something that made delicious feelings go up and down Akaashi’s spine.

‘So… that’s the answer to my question then.’

Akaashi frowned in confusion. ‘What question?’

Bokuto’s mouth stretched into a wide, wicked grin as he brought Akaashi closer, making their chests flush together. The close proximity made Akaashi squirm and want to move away as to not do something they would both regret, but he found himself unable to—Bokuto had far too strong a hold on him and the warmth was so intoxicating that Akaashi didn’t dare move away from it yet. Bokuto leant towards Akaashi’s ear, his hot breath tickling the shell; Akaashi could feel the movement of his lips, a hair’s breadth away from actually touching him, as he whispered three words into it.

‘You’re not single.’

When all Akaashi did was shoot him a puzzled look, Bokuto laughed and kissed the tip of his nose.

‘I’ve wanted to ask you that for a while, but I never had the courage to do so,’ he explained and Akaashi nodded slowly in acknowledgement. Then he froze as a sly smile crawled onto Bokuto’s mouth and he murmured playfully, ‘But you mustn’t be single if you’re sitting here kissing me like that.’

Akaashi decided then that Bokuto was even more forward with alcohol in his system than without—but as was he, for he threw caution to the wind and captured Bokuto’s lips with his once more, savouring the feeling of them against his and the prickliness of his stubble upon his fingertips as Akaashi cupped Bokuto’s cheeks in his palms once more. Only two lots of kisses in and Akaashi was already addicted to the sensation of Bokuto’s presence. But then again… perhaps he had already been intoxicated by Bokuto for a while now.

But he didn’t want to think about that now. Bokuto was so lovely, not a care in a world as his palms came to a rest on the small of Akaashi’s back, pulling them even closer together than before, if such a thing was possible. Their kisses were softer, mere brushes of lips upon lips. The passion was albeit deeper, restrained in a manner that if it was released, Akaashi feared he would not be able to stop himself.

He was perfectly content to be with Bokuto like this, nothing holding them back save for heaving in large gulps of air between kisses. 

 

Akaashi didn’t know what time it was when they had decided to retire for the night. Akaashi insisted Bokuto remain here, as it was too late to leave in the dark and he was in no condition to go home alone. Bokuto merely grinned at him, showing how truly happy he was at the events that had unfolded, before leaning in to kiss Akaashi once more. He had agreed to stay, hence Akaashi having made up a spare futon in the spare room for the night. Bokuto was snug as a bug, with the blanket up to his chin and his eyes hooded in bliss. Akaashi couldn’t help but see a crooning, delighted bird instead of his face, and it made the moment all the more bittersweet.

They had to return to normal the next day, there was no doubt about that. It would be dangerous to continue such actions… especially since the reason they met was because of an unfaithful wife. 

‘Goodnight, Keiji.’

Bokuto’s voice was sleepy, and it made it much lower than it usually was. Akaashi’s mind moved away from the thought of tomorrow and, instead, burst into thoughts of waking up to that voice, a mere whisper in his ear, full of love and adoration. He shook his head violently and murmured a, ‘Goodnight, Koutarou,’ back. He shut the door and resisted the urge to slam his forehead onto it in frustration. Instead, he rested it gently against it, sucking in several deep breaths.

_Pull yourself together, Keiji._

Taking in one, final deep breath, he pushed himself off the door and started moving away from it, away from Bokuto. As he made his way to his own room, Akaashi thought that for once, maybe, the rumours around the office were true.

 

* * *

 

The feeling of Bokuto’s lips on his own didn’t leave Akaashi’s even the next day. He sat in his office, reading over Kenma’s notes on the Bokuto accounts, fingers of one hand trailing over the edges of the page and the fingers of the other glossing over his bottom lip. Looking back on it, Akaashi didn’t regret doing it. What he did regret was the alcohol, for his head pounded and he felt slightly sick in the stomach.

Or was him knowing he had gotten involved with a married man?

Whatever it was, it both confused and pleased him. Bokuto had left early that morning before Akaashi had gone to work with no mention of their encounter. He had thanked him for letting him stay the night and that he would see him again tomorrow. Akaashi had waved him goodbye, nearly on the verge of screaming out in frustration.

He realised last night and this morning that he wanted Bokuto. God, he wanted him. He needed him. Needed to be with him, to kiss him, to hold and love him. It was amazing how one set of circumstances could leave such a mark on a person—

‘Aka-chan?’

Blinking rapidly out of his thoughts, Akaashi saw Oikawa standing in his office doorway. He looked puzzled, given his raised eyebrow—although… why were his eyes twinkling like that?—but he quickly recovered once he saw that he had Akaashi’s attention.

‘Look what just arrived.’

In his hand was a thick, brown envelope and it took Akaashi a moment to understand that the next phase of their case was about to be unveiled. Oikawa’s famous photographs had arrived. Oikawa told him that the others were waiting outside and that Kuroo and Iwaizumi had news to report from their rounds last night. So Akaashi didn’t waste a moment and hurried into the main room, seeing Kenma and Kuroo sitting at their desks, talking in low voices and Iwaizumi fidgeting with his fingers.

‘Alright…’ he began, scanning over the men who had turned their gazes towards his voice. ‘What do we have?’

Iwaizumi stopped fidgeting and his posture stiffened. He exchanged a quick look with Kuroo—who made movements with his hands to tell him to talk—before sucking in a deep breath and blurting out, ‘It’s bad, Akaashi. Really bad. Kuroo and I managed to follow Bokuto’s wife all the way to her secret meeting point and… we overheard several conversations she had with a man of some kind. It wasn’t… It had nothing to do with a love affair. On the contrary, they were talking drugs.’

Akaashi stared. _Drugs?_ ‘What on earth do you mean?’

‘We couldn’t see whom she was conversing with,’ Kuroo piped up, chewing on his bottom lip. ‘If we tried to see, we would have been caught. But I don’t know, Akaashi… none of what we heard sounded good. They were talking about payments for the next lot of shipments to come in. Bokuto’s wife promised that she’d have the money and that the drugs would get in safely. But then their conversation turned to Bokuto himself.’

‘She’s hired a hitman on him, Akaashi,’ Iwaizumi whispered, and the words hit Akaashi like a slap. ‘She made it clear to whomever she was talking to that she was only using him for the funds. But she doesn’t have full access to these funds, for whatever reason. So she believes once Bokuto is… out of the picture for good, she can use that money to fund this drug business.’

The words merely flew over Akaashi like a wave. He realised then that this was no longer a case for them. They had to get the police involved. If she had hired a hitman—an _assassin_ —to knock Bokuto off so she could use his money… This was something they could not stop. They didn’t have the authority. Everyone knew that.

Not sure of what else to say, Akaashi turned to Oikawa and held his hand out for the folder. Oikawa said nothing, just did as he was asked and Akaashi quickly opened it and took out a huge stack of photos. He moved towards the desks and spread them out over Kenma’s, Kuroo’s and Iwaizumi’s desks. There was total silence as they all took in the photographs, and the more he looked, the more Akaashi’s heart dropped into his stomach.

It was Kenma who voiced his thoughts. ‘That’s the leader of the local drug ring, isn’t it? What is Bokuto-senpai’s wife doing?’

‘She’s… handing over money, by the looks of it,’ Oikawa murmured, picking up a photo and examining it closely. ‘How I didn’t notice that, I’ll never know.’

‘You said it was dark,’ Iwaizumi said matter-of-factly, leaning over his shoulder to look at the photo. ‘Akaashi? What are we going to do?’

Akaashi shook his head. He didn’t know what to do. At all. How on earth was he going to tell Bokuto all of this? Would he believe him?

All he said to his colleagues was, ‘I don’t know.'

 

* * *

 

It had proven that all Akaashi could do was tell the truth. The next day, Bokuto had arrived on time, prim and proper with a smile on his face as usual. But that smile had quickly faded at Akaashi’s grave tone and serious façade. Then the facts were in the air, and Bokuto’s chirpy expression vanished.

The need to comfort him by holding his hand or pushing back some wayward hair from his face had been following Akaashi ever since that day Bokuto had appeared in the pub forlorn and confused. It had been strong when they had spent the night at Akaashi’s, lost in the feeling of lips upon lips and fingers intertwined. Now… now it was stronger than ever before. Bokuto’s glassy eyes, his open mouth and deep frown painting the shock on his face made Akaashi want to press kisses on his cheeks, to apologise, to tell him that he wished things hadn’t turned out like this. But before he could get a word in, Bokuto started to slowly shake his head.

‘You… What are you talking about, Akaashi?’ Akaashi pretended not to wince at the use of his surname, the return to the formalities. ‘She’s… doing what? No, no that can’t be right. That’s not like her at all!’

Akaashi grimaced and sighed, reaching under his desk to pull out his drawer, taking out the thick envelope from Oikawa’s developer and placing it in front of them. Bokuto’s eyes immediately landed on it before darting up to meet Akaashi’s own sad gaze. Akaashi pulled out the stack of photos and placed them right in front of Bokuto.

‘These are the photos one of my most trusted men managed to take,’ he told Bokuto, his voice soft and, for once, not icy or sarcastic. ‘They clearly show your wife dealing with the head of the local drug ring, handing over money and… having discussions with him. My men also overheard various conversations not only between your wife and the head, but between the head and his men. They have… discussed many serious things, Bokuto-san, things that affect your life.’

Bokuto’s eyes, where they had settled on the photographs before him, the top one being his wife smiling and laughing with the smirking head of the drug ring, snapped up to meet Akaashi’s face. Just from his expression, Akaashi could read the question of “What?” that oozed out of his features. How on earth was he supposed to answer this so nonchalantly? But perhaps he had no choice.

So he sucked in a deep breath and said, ‘There is no easy way to say this but… your wife has hired someone to… kill you, Bokuto-san. A hitman. My men overheard the head talking about finding the stealthiest man in town in order to pull off your assassination and to liberate your wife from your reins. They see you as a tyrant, Bokuto-san, from whatever lies your wife told them. About how you are interested in leading the drug ring one day—’

He was interrupted when Bokuto flew from his seat and whispered, ‘Stop.’ Whispered, not shouted, which made Akaashi gape at him. Bokuto’s hands were outstretched, his eyes screwed shut and his mouth turned downwards. He let out a shaky sigh and ran his fingers through his hair before he turned from Akaashi and his desk and moved towards the window. Akaashi didn’t know what to do or to say. It was evident that Bokuto was finding it hard to believe what was being presented to him, but Akaashi couldn’t help but feel that there was… something more than just that.

Akaashi quickly found out what that was.

‘Akaashi-san, this… this can’t be true,’ Bokuto told him, his voice distant, ten worlds away from the office and the situation. ‘My wife she… she wouldn’t _do_ that. That’s… that can’t be her.’ Bokuto slowly turned back to glance at the photos before looking imploringly at Akaashi. ‘There must be some kind of mistake.’

Dark bore into light. Gold seeped through the darkest blue. Akaashi stood from his seat, keeping his arms and hands by his sides, his gaze piercing. ‘I’m sorry but there is no mistake.’

Just like that, Bokuto withered into himself. He shook his head rapidly, ranting, ‘But, no! I can’t have… this is ridiculous. Why would she do that? It doesn’t make sense, Akaashi, I am her _husband_ who _loves her_ —why would she want to kill me? Use me like that? Trick me? If that were the case, this would have happened years ago! When we married! Why three years later? It doesn’t… no, I can’t accept this—’

Akaashi interrupted him with a harsh snap of, ‘The evidence is right in front of you, Bokuto-san. I’m sorry that this is the case, but it’s the truth. You asked for the truth and there it is. I don’t know what else to tell you.’

A pregnant pause fell upon them, enveloping the walls and digging under their skins. Bokuto gawked wide-eyed at him and Akaashi was inwardly cursing himself at his harshness. He could have said that a bit nicer, a little less… direct. He continued to beat himself over it when Bokuto hung his head, his shoulders visibly loosening. Moving back towards Akaashi’s desk, Akaashi watched as Bokuto’s fingers slid the first picture aside, followed by the second and the third. He didn’t seem to be taking them in properly, just setting them to one side, showing at least half of his wife’s face.

Then he lifted his head, a very fake and forced smile upon his lips, not at all reaching his eyes. He bowed politely in his direction and reached over to grab his hat that lay in the corner of the desk. When he looked Akaashi fully in the face, Akaashi’s went slightly round at the tears lining the edges of Bokuto’s eyes.

His voice was small, tone morose, as he whispered, ‘Thank you… for all your work. I’ll, um, be in touch.’ Then he walked towards the office door and out of the agency, not once looking back. Akaashi’s voice had died in his throat, his face distraught and Bokuto’s first name hanging silently in the air.

_** TO BE CONTINUED ** _

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the end!! There is more to come I promise ;w;w;w;w;w; It's still being finished omg...
> 
> [This way for more HQ content (and Hetalia if you're into that as well :D)](https://doubleox515fanfictions.tumblr.com/)


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